


Non-Still Lives

by CrunchySalad



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Multiple Pairings, No Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-11
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchySalad/pseuds/CrunchySalad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unrelated ficlets involving the Eyeshield 21 boys. Pairings are listed inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing by Chapter:  
> 1\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 2\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 3\. Rui and Hiruma  
> 4\. Banba and Harao  
> 5\. Shin and Hiruma  
> 6\. Everyone and Hiruma  
> 7\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 8\. Shin and Sakuraba  
> 9\. Banba and Harao  
> 10\. Rui and Hiruma  
> 11\. Shin and Sakuraba  
> 12\. Banba and Harao  
> 13\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 14\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 15\. Musashi and Hiruma  
> 16\. Banba and Harao  
> 17\. Musashi and Hiruma, others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a series of drabble. A drabble is a fic that is exactly 100 words long.

**1\. Cerberus**

A cigarette in his mouth and his hands were fumbling for a lighter. It was hot, impossibly humid and stuffy, and he pulled at his tank top.

That's when he saw it. Muzzled and caged and still trying to tear shit up. It disappeared into some store, and he heard some guy say he wanted his money back.

Later, Musashi dropped a struggling mutt into Hiruma's lap. It had a bow tied on its spiked collar.

"It reminded me of you."

Hiruma picked up the dog, still barking and slobbering like a beast possessed. It was love at first sight.

 **  
**

**2\. Lazy Summer Day**

Musashi hoped summer would end soon. His apartment (6-mat room, no bath) didn't have air conditioning, and there was never a breeze coming from the window. It didn't help that Hiruma was laying on top of him, his head and shoulders digging into his stomach. Hiruma's shirt lifted up to bunch at his rib cage, and Musashi traced patterns along the skin there. If he stretched out his hand he could reach across the width of Hiruma's waist. He moved his fingers up Hiruma's chest, Hiruma's breath hitched in his sleep, and Musashi thought, summer wasn't too bad after all.

 **  
**

**3\. First Kiss**

Hiruma's wrists were so thin in his hands. If he wanted to, he could break them fairly easily, but he had no desire to hurt the other boy. As it was, Hiruma was right where he wanted him, which was disabled of any weapons and on his lap while he balanced on the classroom windowsill.

"Fucking let me go," Hiruma snarled, baring those lovely fangs, but it lacked the vehemence that Hiruma used to intimidate most people into obeying his every command. And when Musashi leaned forward, and pressed their lips together, hard, Hiruma didn't hesitate to kiss him back.

 

 **4\. Cigarettes**

"Lighter," Hiruma ordered, sliding onto the bench beside him. Hiruma's arm brushed against his, Hiruma's leg brushed against his, brush burns, and his skin felt hot where they touched. Musashi moved an arm behind Hiruma's back and rested his hand on top of slivers of rotted wood. There was a cigarette stuck in Hiruma's mouth and Musashi leaned forward, lighting it with the already lit end of the cigarette in his own mouth. Cigarette trails traced a ladder in the sky, Musashi shifted, and Hiruma pretended not to notice when a rough and calloused hand wrapped itself around his hip.

 **  
**

**5\. Gum**

Hiruma lit a cigarette, took one drag, then flicked it to the ground, where he took relish in grinding it into the pavement with the tip of his shoe. Lather, rinse, repeat, and Musashi watched him send fifteen cigarettes to their premature deaths before saying something.

"Trying to quit?"

Hiruma shrugged and flicked another cigarette. Sixteen untimely deaths. Poor little guys; they didn't deserve it. "Gotta up my speed. Smoking's sure as hell not helping me."

Musashi dipped into his pocket, threw a small, rectangular pack at Hiruma. Sour apple, Hiruma's favorite, and Musashi started counting bubbles instead of cigarettes.

 **  
**

**6\. Matching Tattoos**

Musashi groaned as he woke up. His head was pounding a rhythm like some heavy metal song. Exactly how much beer had he drank?

He sat up, blanket falling to his waist, and realized that not only was he naked, but Hiruma was naked next to him.

That's when he noticed it, some dirt on his forearm, near his elbow. Except when he tried to wipe it off it didn't go. He leaned forward, his eyes focused, and there it was. A Devilbat tattoo. He looked over at Hiruma and grinned. At least he hadn't gotten it on his ass.


	2. Bento

He really shouldn't chain smoke like this. Fifteen minutes and six cigarettes, it was probably too much. He had never smoked before, back when he was still in school, but that seemed like a long time ago, and he was a completely different person now. He wished he wasn't. He wished he was still worrying over failing out of class or getting more members for the team, wished he could still scheme and joke with Hiruma instead of running his old man's company. Just for a few years, Musashi told himself, then it's the high school equivalency test and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. But no, even then, he'd probably just be doing this.

Musashi heard a noise behind him, some one kicking something and then a dog whimper, and he thought, speak of the devil. He turned around just in time to catch a small plastic box that Hiruma had chucked at his head, followed by a can of soda. A plastic bag hung from Hiruma's elbow, the letters 'Son Son' on the bottom of it.

"You still working for that place?" Musashi asked, opening his store-bought bento as Hiruma took a seat next to him on the brick fence.

"What? You think I'd spend money on you?"

Musashi shrugged, stuffing his mouth with a piece of egg. He gestured at the club house, surrounded as it was by beams of wood and other construction equipment. "You're paying me to do all this."

"Only because you're so cheap."

Musashi turned to look at Hiruma, who hadn't touched his own bento. Hiruma was staring off somewhere, and Musashi studied his face in profile. Hiruma was so strange looking, with those big, pointy ears and that sharp nose. Really cute, Musashi thought, especially when he was cackling over some particularly evil deed he had done.

"Hey, come here," Musashi said, putting down his lunch.

Hiruma turned to him, expression complacent for the moment. "I'm already fucking next to you."

"Come closer." Musashi used a hand to grab onto Hiruma's arm and pulled the other boy closer to him. He knew Hiruma could put up a resistance, if he wanted to; Musashi was bigger and stronger, but Hiruma had all the firearms. Hiruma didn't though, and then their lips were mashing together, and Musashi thought, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Hiruma tasted just as good now as he did a year ago.

Hiruma was the one who pulled away, jerking his arm out of Musashi's hold.

"Class," he explained, and then he was walking away.

Musashi picked up his bento, and waited for his men to come back from their lunch break.


	3. Rui, Domestic Goddess

The weapons he used were in his hands: a mop and a plastic caddy full of cleaning supplies. Yellow, rubber gloves stretched from his fingertips to his elbows, and a blue bandana kept his hair out of his face. Now, it was time for Rui to clean Hiruma's bathroom.

First, he disinfected the toilet bowl, before scrubbing the seat. Then he moved on to the sink and shower, both of which he cleaned diligently. After about an hour he stood back to survey his work, and nodded, satisfied. Everything was suitably clean.

Next, it was off to pick Hiruma's clothes off the floor and do the laundry. In between loads he vacuumed the carpet, and organized Hiruma's gun collection. He found the Thompson next to the .40 S&W, instead of with the other machine guns... really, Hiruma was so disorganized sometimes.

After that he checked the time. Hiruma would be back in an hour, so that meant he had to prepare tea and dinner. He walked off to the kitchen, putting on the pink apron Hiruma had supplied for him. He decided to cook soba, having just learned how. And to think, a few weeks ago, he didn't even know how to cook and clean. He fondly remembered those days, before Hiruma had imprisoned him into this world of domestic servitude, and he was free to practice football and ride around with his motorcycle gang. He briefly contemplated running, but then he thought about his precious baby being scrapped and sold for parts, and he shuddered. Worse yet, he imagined Hiruma coming after him with several machine guns. Getting shot by bullets was really no fun at all.

He placed the soba and tea on the table, and went back into the kitchen to clean up. Hiruma came in a few minutes later and ate his dinner, then walked into the kitchen.

Rui felt a kick on his back, and with an 'oof', he fell face first on the kitchen floor.

"Good work, fucking slave." Hiruma cackled madly. "When you're done come into the bedroom. I want you to give me a good, hard fucking before I go to sleep tonight."

"Yes, Master Hiruma," Rui replied as he got up. At least, he thought, being Hiruma's slave meant he got to enjoy some funner duties as well.


	4. Tantrum, Pharaoh Style

"Thou hateth me!"

Banba did his best to ignore the boy sobbing in the corner of the train car, though it was hard with Harao's voice rising every minute. In addition to that Harao's arms were flailing wildly about him, hitting Kasamatsu in his chest and getting the attention of every one on the train. The rest of the team members looked back and forth between Harao and Banba, too stupid to know what to do.

"One only tries one's hardest, and tis the thanks that one receives!" Harao blew his nose on Kasamatsu's sleeve. "After all one has done for one's dearest Banba..."

Banba rolled his eyes. Only five minutes until the Enoshima stop.

"Chasing one's concubines away, so that we might shareth time alone..."

Banba's eyes flew open. Harao wasn't going to say what he thought he was going to say, was he? Not in front of the entire team and random strangers, most of whom were looking out their windows awkwardly.

"... and letting thou taste of one's succulent lips, and touch sacred places never before explored..."

Banba jerked out of his seat and plowed his way to the back of the train car. Some girl squealed as he stepped on her skirt, almost ripping it off.

"... letting thou pusheth thou's meat into one's pure and untouched channel..."

Banba pulled Kasamatsu out of his seat and threw him into the side of the train, where he made a strange squishing sound before falling to the floor.

"Harao!" Banba said, stopping the other boy before he revealed other... kinkier... secrets. "I don't hate you."

Harao sniffled. "No?"

"No," Banba replied, breathing a sigh of relief when Harao smiled at him.

"Apologize."

"I'm truly sorry, Harao." Banba took a seat next to his quarterback and leaned back. Really, who knew the pharaoh of Taiyou was such a queen?


	5. The Difference Between Love and Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: ooc; also, this was written before we found out about Hiruma's dad, so it's also kind of AU

When Shin got back to Japan, he wasn't surprised to find Hiruma in his apartment. Doors never stayed locked when Hiruma was concerned, and the other boy came and went as he pleased, regardless if Shin had locked the door or not. There were beer cans all over his once immaculate floors, and take-out boxes littering his counters. Hiruma himself was sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette in Shin's favorite grey sweatshirt, the too large sleeves rolled up at his elbows.

"How long have you been here?" Shin asked as he walked over to open the window. He hated the smell of cigarette smoke, and his apartment now reeked of it.

"A week." Hiruma kicked his legs up, dirty feet landing on Shin's coffee table. "I bought some groceries, so, you know..."

Hiruma trailed off, looked away, but Shin was never good at guessing what other people have to say.

"... are you going to fucking cook something for me or not?"

Shin walked back to the kitchen, clearing the counter space of all the containers. That's right, Hiruma didn't know how to cook.

"Can't you find some one else to cook for you?"

But when he looked towards the couch Hiruma was slouched down and staring off into the distance, and he thought maybe he shouldn't ask. Shin made some omelet rice, because in truth he couldn't cook much either, and Hiruma shoveled it down as though he was starved. Maybe he was, Shin didn't know. Shin sat next to him and watched him eat, and when he was finished they fucked on the couch and fell asleep.

They next morning Shin woke up cramped and tired, half his body hanging off the couch. Hiruma was still asleep next to him, but Shin left him to go jog for a bit. Jogging was usually his favorite part of the day. There was nothing like the early morning, when everything still felt new and crisp and clean, and all he had to think about were the melodies his mp3 player whispered in his ears.

The last few weeks had been bad. America had been bad. He had gone, with his heavily accented English, and had seen colleges that told him how excited they would be to have him. On a full football scholarship, of course, and he'd get all the experience he needed to make it professionally in the states and become the football player he always wanted to be. The best. He had met the other football players, and their expressions had ranged from shocked to incredulous.

"A Chinese football player? I didn't even know those kids played football." he had heard one of say to another, and then a reply of, "Well, look at Yao. They play basketball, why not football too?"

He was pretty sure he was faster than most of them, stronger, and could outclass them in skills as well. But he was smaller than them, he looked different, and he felt more out of place than he ever had before.

Shin hadn't thought it would matter, if he was out of place. It was the game that mattered. But once he was faced with the reality of it, once he was in America, with its big open skies and brash people, he couldn't imagine playing football there. Except, that was all he had ever wanted, and with graduation running towards him he couldn't even stop to think about making the decision.

When he got back he put his mp3 player on the kitchen counter and went to his room to change. He would have taken a shower, but he could hear Hiruma in there, and he didn't feel like joining the other boy. After he finished dressing he stood at the bathroom door, watching Hiruma washing his hair.

"Hey, how long are you going to be here?"

Hiruma had his eyes closed, face up towards the shower faucet. "Dunno."

"Don't you have anywhere else to go?"

Hiruma shook his head no, sending drops of water onto the glass door.

Shin watched him for a little, through the light fog of the room. Hiruma had always been so skinny, maybe overly so, and Shin had always wondered how he managed to be such a good football player with that kind of build. "So you're here for free room and board."

Hiruma turned to him then, his eyes set in that angry, feral glare he got sometimes. "I'll pull my own weight."

Shin turned and left. He needed to get to school; whether or not Hiruma was going to his own class was none of his concern.

Shin didn't really care if Hiruma didn't pay him for rent. That had always been their arrangement, hadn't it? Hiruma got a place to stay, and they both got to get off. Now, though, it seemed to be more than just a one-night arrangement, and Shin wondered where Hiruma would go if he went to America in a few months. He didn't doubt that the boy could extort some one into providing him shelter. Why then, was he even here?

Sakuraba was waiting for him at the school's gate, and they fell in step together as they walked to join their other friends.

After school Shin came home to find half a month's worth of rent on his counter. He cooked pork miso soup for Hiruma, and made a special vitamin drink for himself. He was asleep when Hiruma stumbled in later, but the door slamming woke him up, and the clock read after ten.

"Do you know where you're going?" Sakuraba asked him, a few days later at school.

Shin still hadn't decided. Every one was pressuring him for an answer... the colleges, his parents, his counselor. "No."

"It must be nice, to be scouted like that." Sakuraba looked sad for a moment, and Shin wondered if Sakuraba had ever been mad at him for being a better football player. "America, huh?"

"America." Even the word sounded strange on his tongue.

"Hey." Sakuraba punched him in the shoulder and grinned at him. "But you'll come back and visit me, right?"

Sakuraba was going to study journalism at a liberal arts school, but really, school was just a backdrop while he continued his own football career. He was good enough by now to play on the collegiate level, and in a few years professionally, in Japan at least, and playing for his country was really all that Sakuraba ever wanted.

"Of course," Shin replied. "I'll have to watch you in the Koshien Bowl."

"Oh, yeah." Sakuraba looked as though he had just remembered something. "Takami says he tried to call your place late last night, and that Hiruma guy picked up."

"He's staying with me," Shin admitted.

"Oh. Isn't that... weird?"

"I think his parents kicked him out."

Understanding and sympathy dawned on Sakuraba's face. "Poor guy. It's just, you know, be careful, cause people talk, you know? You wouldn't believe some of the weird rumors people say about you." Sakuraba laughed a little, as if the rumors were spectacularly silly. "You should get a girlfriend or something to shut them up."

"Yeah."

That night Shin fall asleep before Hiruma came home again, and he woke up to Hiruma crawling on top of him and caressing his cock and balls. Hiruma kissed him, hard and wet and sloppy, and they made out while Hiruma stroked him to hardness. Then Hiruma broke off the kiss and sat up, and Shin felt himself being enveloped as Hiruma slid down on his cock. Hiruma rode him, moving up and down, and he put his hands on the blond's waist to help him along. It was never fast or hard enough though, and soon Shin tossed Hiruma on the bed and started pounding him into the mattress. Hiruma's legs were a vice grip around his waist, and Hiruma's fingernails trailed claw marks down his back.

Afterwards, Shin stared up at the ceiling. Hiruma was on his side, back towards him, smoking another one of his cigarettes.

"Don't pick up my phone," Shin told him, remembering.

Hiruma was silent a moment, taking a drag, and then Shin saw three perfectly concentric circles blow into the air. "Why? Are you afraid people will find out you're a fag?"

"Just don't pick it up."

Hiruma got out of bed and walked towards the bathroom. "I've got to take a shit."

Hiruma paused at the bathroom door, stretched a little bit.

"You know," Hiruma said, "it won't work out, being in love with a straight boy."

"Shut the fuck up," Shin replied, surprised he was mad enough to curse, "you don't know anything about me."

Hiruma disappeared into the bathroom, and Shin fell asleep. He dreamt about cowboys and samurai, and eating ramen with Sakuraba on the fourth of July.

In the morning Shin inspected the damage Hiruma had done to his back. The scratch marks stung a little bit now, and looked a bright, angry red. He did his best to cover all the scratches with ointment, and wore a dark t-shirt to hide them.

That day Hiruma left, and didn't come back for four days. In class Sakuraba noticed that Shin kept checking his cell phone, and when he asked him why, Shin mumbled some excuse about admissions officers. Hiruma finally came back with little ceremony, and Shin handed him a glass of milk as a hello.

"I'm not in love with Sakuraba," Shin said, surprising both of them with the statement. It was none of Hiruma's business, after all.

Hiruma sipped his milk, indifferent. "It's none of my business."

Two weeks before graduation, Shin went into his counselor's office. He had decided. He was going to America, to USC. Big, open skies, palm trees, and sushi that was more expensive and nowhere near as good as the sushi in Japan. He told Sakuraba, who looked genuinely happy for him, and he called his parents to tell them the news. They talked about missing him and maybe buying a house in California, but really, it's not as though he saw them that often even living in Japan.

After his last class he changed into his gym clothes, plugged in his mp3 player, and went for a jog. He would be leaving all this soon, leaving the land of the rising sun for a career in American football. It was what he had always wanted, and still, he felt a sadness tugging at him that he hadn't expected. He would miss this, he realized. He would miss good soba, and Sakuraba, and speaking Japanese. He would even miss his parents, and...

Shin stopped to take a drink of water and looked into a shop window. A book stared out at him, 'The Art of Cooking', and he remembered that Hiruma couldn't cook. Hiruma ate store-bought bento and other cheap conveniences, and maybe didn't even eat at all sometimes if he got tired of it.

Shin started jogging again, all of a sudden confused, and when he stopped jogging he realized he was in front of Deimon High. He stopped his jog and walked onto the campus, knowing exactly where the football field was. The school was almost empty, and he passed by only a few students on his way. Of course, clubs had ended a long time ago.

Hiruma was sitting against a short wall near the football club house, tossing a bone for his mutt to catch. Shin walked up and leaned forward against the wall, watching as the two continued their game.

"I'm going to America."

Hiruma didn't say anything, just continued tossing the bone to his dog. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Shin looked away. What was he doing he? What exactly was he thinking, or expecting? Out of bed, he barely even knew Hiruma. Between them, it had always just been about sex, and now he had somehow messed up his head and couldn't tell the difference between sex and love. Maybe it was complacency, and he had just gotten used to Hiruma's presence, but for some reason he couldn't even think about buying a new apartment in America if Hiruma wasn't there to break into it. "I want you to come with me."

Hiruma leaned back further against the wall, dug his hands into his pocket. "What the hell am I going to do in America?"

"What are you going to do here?"

Hiruma's eyes glazed over as he looked at the ground, and for a moment Shin thought maybe Hiruma was just as confused as he was.

"My dad kicked me out when he found out I was gay," Hiruma confessed, that untamed anger back in his eyes. "After all the shit I've done, he kicked me out because of that, the fucking bastard."

Hiruma looked right at him then, eyes blazing, and Shin didn't know what Hiruma wanted out of him. What he was supposed to say.

"Come with me," he repeated, "to America. We'll figure things out there."

"Yeah." Hiruma closed his eyes and swallowed. "Yeah, I'll go with you."

"Let's go home."

Hiruma got up and jumped over the fence, surprisingly docile for the moment. Shin wasn't really sure what he was doing. He wasn't sure that he wasn't making a really stupid mistake. But, as Hiruma fell into step beside him, he was sure for one fleeting moment that they could figure everything out.


	6. There's Something About Hiruma

**Rui.**

Rui remembered the first time he met Hiruma. It was that day they scheduled that practice game, and he had gone over to Deimon High to meet with the quarterback. He opened the door to the club house, and there Hiruma was, polishing a huge grenade launcher that sat between his thighs. Rui felt hot all of a sudden.

Hiruma raised an eyebrow. "You that fucker Habashiro?"

"Yeah." Was he drooling? He might have been drooling. "That's me."

"Got any weapons?"

Rui took out his knife and stabbed it into the desk. "You?"

Hiruma kicked his grenade launcher to the side, where it collided into the wall with a loud crash. Plaster flew into the air. It was just like a scene from a romance movie, Rui thought.

"I don't believe that's all you got," Rui said, and he drooled a little more as Hiruma got up and walked toward him.

"Yeah? Wanna check?" Hiruma turned his back to Rui and leaned over, hands on the table. Rui walked forward and spent a good two minutes checking every inch of Hiruma's body. It was the best two minutes of his life.  
 **  
Shin.**

Shin remembered the first time he met Hiruma. It was first year, during a practice game between the knights and the bats. The knights won of course, without needing Shin's help, so Shin mostly sat on the sidelines. And watched Hiruma. He watched Hiruma fumble and sweat, watched Hiruma getting tackled by large, sweaty boys, watched Hiruma tackle large, sweaty boys. He wished men still played sports naked, like they did in ancient Greece. Mmm... he imagined Hiruma playing football naked, and getting tackled by all those naked, sweaty boys.

When the game was done and the players went to face each other, Shin gave Hiruma a hard slap on the ass.

"Good game," he said.

"Shin," Sakuraba whispered, "I thought players only slapped their own teammates on the ass."

"No," Shin lied, "opposing team members do it too."

"Shin," Sakuraba whispered again, this time a little more urgently, "check yourself."

Shin looked down. How on Earth was his erection showing through his jock strap?

 **Sakuraba.**

Sakuraba knew that Shin had a thing for Hiruma. How could he not? Sakuraba asked himself, watching Hiruma running through his video camera. Hiruma was so... cute. Sure, he was also crazy, and had held Sakuraba at gunpoint when they had first met, but that was all part of his charm.

Sakuraba licked his lips as he watched Hiruma take a fall. With that tight little ass, Hiruma could be as crazy as he wanted to.

This was one battle Sakuraba was not losing to Shin.  
 **  
Shogun.**

"I want to go survey the Deimon Bats and the Cupids," Sakuraba had told him, Shin in tow. That slacker, Shouji thought, he probably just wanted to skip practice.

"Fine," Shouji replied. After all, he had his own motives to think of.

Later, after the team had reviewed the video (which was predictably filled with close-ups of Hiruma), Shouji went back into the club room and stole the footage. When his wife and kids were asleep he sneaked downstairs, settled into his couch, and turned the tape on.

"Ah," he said, rubbing at his crotch, "Hiruma..."  
 **  
Musashi.  
**  
Musashi knew all kinds of guys wanted to get into Hiruma's pants, but that didn't really matter to him, because when all was said and done with Hiruma was his. He was the one who was having fun with the trigger happy psychopath, whether that fun was in Hiruma's room, the club house, or a photo sticker booth. Musashi laughed. That last one had resulted in some pretty interesting photos, although the experience wasn't as amusing as the one up in that tree. At any rate, he wasn't worried about Hiruma's crazy mad pheromones, because at the end of the day he was the only one coming inside of that too-cute-for-words ass.

 **Musashi-san.**

Musashi walked into his dad's hospital room, a bouquet of flowers clenched in his fist. He put them in a nearby vase, hoping he didn't squish their stems too much.

"Hey," Musashi said, taking a seat next to the bed and lighting up another cigarette. The receptionist had made him put out the other one when he entered the hospital. "You have another visitor today."

The elder Musashi looked up as Hiruma entered the room. The younger Musashi watched him suspiciously; he had seen the way his dad's eyes had lit up as Hiruma walked in.

"Hey, old man," Hiruma said, "how's everything going?"

"Hiruma! I haven't seen you in so long. Come here, come here."

Hiruma walked up towards the bed.

"Closer." The old man patted his bed next to him. "Sit down beside me."

Musashi took an extra long drag on his cigarette.

"It's been so long since I've seen you." The old man put a hand on Hiruma's waist, and Musashi was not pleased to see it brushing against Hiruma's ass. The old man put his other hand on Hiruma's chest and rubbed through the shirt. "Look at how big and strong you've gotten."

Musashi put out his cigarette.

"And just look at how toned your legs are now," the old man mumbled, moving a hand to Hiruma's thigh.

"Yeah." Musashi got up and pulled Hiruma towards him. "We gotta go now."

 **Kid.**

Kid was out on the town on one of those lazy, dog day afternoons, contemplating the weather and such as he tried to find a place to cool down. He caught sight of something in the periphery of his vision... a saloon. He smiled as he made his way towards it... what luck he was having today.

"One cold milk," he told the barkeep, who looked at him funny but didn't say anything. The old man got him his drink, and Kid settled down and just enjoyed himself. Then he noticed some one sitting down next to him, and looked over. It was that guy, from the Deimon Bats, frisky kid named Hiruma. He looked the other boy up and down, then stopped, noticing the gun tucked into Hiruma's pants.

"Is that a .45 colt?" he drawled, getting a little excited.

"Yeah," Hiruma answered back.

"That's a beautiful gun."

"One of my favorites," Hiruma confessed.

Kid looked into Hiruma's eyes. He was in love.


	7. Untitled MusaHiru

He cleaned up and put his uniform back on... his school uniform, and the cheap cotton on his skin made him smile. Every one else had already left, long gone after their showers to celebrate, but he had taken longer then them. He hadn't felt this way in such a long time... he was high on the adrenaline, and he wanted to keep this feeling as long as possible.

Fucking American football. Who'd have thought it'd get so ingrained in him.

Musashi picked up his bag and walked out to the field. He stood on the grass, on that fifty-yard line, green all around him and big, blue space overhead. It was empty, still, so silent... for a moment, it was almost sacred.

He heard some one behind him, but he didn't turn around to see who it was. He already knew.

"Dumbass," he muttered, looking up at those field goals, his voice holding nothing but affection, "what would you have done if I hadn't shown up?"

"We would have beaten those fuckers without you," came the cocky reply, bullshit if he ever heard it. There was silence, and they stared out into the field, together, breeze dancing ballets around them. A few moments of comfortable silence, and then Hiruma was talking again. "You clean up nice."

Musashi smirked, took one last look, and turned around. "Yeah?"

Hiruma looked just like he always did. Crazy, but that's what Musashi liked about him.

"Yeah."

Musashi started walking out of the stadium, and as he passed Hiruma the blond stumbled into step beside him. Fucking American football, and he realized, it hadn't been the only thing he missed.


	8. Untitled ShinSaku

Half the guys he was friends with didn't even notice when he chopped off all his hair, which was to be expected, but to Sakuraba it had been a huge change. After all, he had worn his hair in that certain way since those days when his mother had still cut it. It's not like he cared what his hair looked like, and then he had always been too lazy to change it, and his agency... no, former agency... had liked the look. Which was, he supposed, what spurred him to finally cut it all off. Still, without all that hair he felt almost naked, and he was almost even self-conscious about his new look.

The girls didn't exactly help, when their reactions ranged from shocked gasps to fevered whispers. Takami had told him he looked good, and Ootawara had given him a friendly slap on the back (from which he had almost fallen over) while proclaiming he looked like a man now. Which made him feel just a little bit insulted... what exactly did he look like before? Still, there was something about the way they said it, and it bothered him, even if he pushed it to the back of his head until after practice.

"Shin," he asked later, as the two of them were walking home, "tell me the truth. How do I look?"

Shin stopped from his brisk pace beside him, looked up, eyes lingering on the mustache and goatee Sakuraba had grown out. "You look like a backstreet boy."

Sakuraba sighed as they continued on their way home. He could always trust Shin to tell him the truth... even if he didn't like the answer.


	9. Untitled BaHa

The sun was beating down on them with oppressive heat, baking the sand into tiny coals beneath their feet. There was, as always, a cool breeze coming off the ocean, though it did little to mitigate the summer weather, and was already warm and stale by the time it got to their spot on the beach.

Banba sat in the sand, formidable concentration allowing him to ignore the crisp, hot sand beneath his legs and the harsh sun bearing down on him. He had a more important task at hand, and he bent over a small bowl, every so often plucking a grape of its vine in an attempt to peel it. But the small fruit was like a tiny pea in his monstrous hands, and would only roll away or squish itself as he tried to get a hold of its skin with his large fingers.

Oops. Banba wiped grape remnants onto his swim trunks, realizing he had just destroyed his twentieth grape in a row. He briefly wondered why he was doing this instead of surfing or playing football with the others a few yards away, but then he'd remember that Harao, lounging beneath an umbrella beside him while gossiping cattily with Kasamatsu, didn't like to eat grapes with their skin still on.

So, with utmost patience, Banba would always go back to his task. Besides, it was rare to spend free time with Harao without those idiotic concubines following him around, and today he was dressed in nothing but his sheerest loincloth... a brown fabric the color of the Nile sands, extravagant gold chains holding the front and the back together. If Banba really looked, he could see the outline of Harao between those slim, elegant legs, and it reminded him that if he was good he might get to 'play' with Harao amidst the silken cushions of his bed later on, when dusk set in and the moon came out to chase away the sun.

"Banba."

Harao's lofty voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see a bottle of suntan oil between Harao's fingers.

"Banba, thou skin doth burn if thou stayeth in the sun too long. Let one rubeth oil on thou's scalp."

"No, Harao, that's okay. I'll do it."

"Tis no trouble." Harao's voice held a type of condescending pride, and Banba knew better than to be anything but grateful for this magnanimous gesture. Harao's hands were clumsy and hard on his bald head, and some oil got in his eyes, because Harao was never any good at menial tasks. That was, Banba supposed, partly his fault, as he always did everything for the other boy (or, if he wasn't there, one of those infernal girls would). Soon enough the torture was over, and Banba gave an internal sigh of relief. Harao leaned forward, pressing one gentle yet firm kiss onto the top of Banba's head, before leaning back onto his beach chair to resume his gossiping. And, with the memory of warm lips against his skin, Banba went back to peeling grapes.


	10. Untitled RuiHiruma

"Hey. We're here. Get off already."

Rui's motorcycle was a gentle purr between his legs, and Hiruma was a heavy weight against his back. He could feel the blond's cheek against him, and he realized that Hiruma had fallen asleep. Fucking idiot (not that he would say anything like that to Hiruma's face), who the hell fell asleep on a motorcycle. Fucking dangerous.

Rui got up, got off his motorcycle, and if Hiruma fell over then it wasn't really his fault, was it? Still, he didn't count on Hiruma actually falling over onto him, and he soon felt his arms full of crazy. Shit... and the guy hadn't even woken up... Rui figured there was nothing for it. He lifted Hiruma up and carried him towards his apartment building. He hoped the guy appreciated this when he woke up, but knew he probably wouldn't.

Hiruma kept a key underneath the welcome mat, and Rui didn't have many problems letting them both in, and made quick work of dropping Hiruma onto his bed. He was about to go, but then... he had to admit Hiruma looked pretty damn cute, with his strange, large ears drooping down a little bit, and those little fangs showing through his partly open mouth. Plus, he seemed completely out of it. Rui took a surreptitious and completely unnecessary glance around, and thought what the hell. He leaned down, and found out that Hiruma's lips were surprisingly soft, and that his tongue was... well, Rui didn't get to find that part out, because it was at that moment that Hiruma finally woke up.

"What the fuck?" was the sleepy murmur against his lips, and then Rui felt something cold and hard hitting the side of his face. His vision faded into black, and as he fell unconscious, he thought about how for some one who was still half asleep, Hiruma could pistol whip a guy pretty hard. Still, it had so been worth it.


	11. Untitled ShinSaku

Things hadn't really changed; they had just lessoned. Or so Sakuraba decided, weeks after he had quit modeling, and though he still didn't get quite as many love confessions per day he still received quit a few. He didn't think anything of them, never had, and he certainly never pondered over why he had such a nonchalant attitude towards them. Perhaps, if he had, he would have explained it away as his own sense of jadedness... after all, there were only so many love confessions one boy could take before becoming completely desensitized to it.

So, as he and Takami were walking down the hallway one very ordinary afternoon, when Sakuraba spotted a cluster of giggling and squealing girls (giggling and squealing girls who kept pointing in their direction), he assumed that he was about to receive another love confession. It wasn't arrogance that made him assume it... just experience. Sure enough, one of the girls finally detached herself from the group and jogged shyly up to them, eyelashes fluttering as she blushed down at the floor.

"Sakuraba-sempai?" And it was more of a hushed giggle than any kind of speaking voice. "Will you... take this?"

The group of girls in the background giggled as one, and Sakuraba looked down to see a small piece of triangle in the girl's outstretched hands. A love note.

"It's just... you see... you're on the amefuto team, and, well, you two are such good friends... and, well... couldyoupleasegivethattoShinSeijirouformepleasethankyouverymuch!"

And then the girl dropped the note into his hands, attempting to run back to the safety of her friends while at the same time catching her breath. Sakuraba figured he probably looked fairly shocked right now, though Takami looked vaguely amused.

"Shin?" Sakuraba finally gasped out, and then the two boys laughed a little about it before headed to class.

For one thing, Sakuraba had never expected Shin to get something as trite as a love note. Not that Shin wasn't good looking, or even popular... no, Sakuraba decided, Shin was very handsome, though he shook that thought out of his head as soon as it appeared. It's just that Shin was widely perceived as intimidating and highly inapproachable, and perhaps girls felt that he'd be none to skilled at "important" things such as romance and non-football related activities.

After Sakuraba took a seat in the classroom he started to flip the love note around in his hands... the girl had folded it into a triangle, a little paper football, and had colored in with brown marker. She had even drawn in the stitches. So Shin had an admirer... Sakuraba figured it was about time. Shin was the star player on the amefuto team, even if most people in the school didn't even quite know what amefuto was. He tried to imagine Shin on a date, and almost laughed out lout at the thought of a stoic, serious Shin bringing flowers to a girl before taking her to some silly romance flick.

No, Shin wasn't that type of guy... but what would a date with Shin comprise? Taking in an amefuto game, Sakuraba surmised, would be ideal, but no girl would ever go for that. Training... he could imagine Shin having 'training' dates, like other students had 'study' dates, but couldn't think of any girl who would have fun lifting weights and running. Perhaps a hike. That would be fun, a hike on some trail, maybe a little rock climbing, and then they could make potato guns like they did when they were little and shoot them at people... wait, what was he thinking about? Sakuraba shook his head again, and looked up to see Shin taking the seat next to him.

"Oh... Shin, this is for you." Sakuraba smiled as he slid the note across the table, but then the teacher was calling for the class to start, and he turned his attention back to the front of the room.

Shin looked down at the little piece of paper Sakuraba had just given him. It was folded like a triangle, and colored like a... football? As all the other students took out their notebooks Shin opened the notes, and quickly read the contents to himself. And in the next few moments, even if Shin's expression remained as dour as ever, a faint blush rose to his cheeks. He snuck a glance at Sakuraba, but the other boy was facing front, chewing on the end of his pen. Sakuraba... liked him?

Shin didn't know what to make of it... but Sakuraba had given him this note, confessing his feelings. His mind turning over the concept, Shin was a little confused, and... flattered? It surprised him, but then Sakuraba was very good looking, and they did spend so much time together. But Shin didn't know that much about romance or dating... what would they do, if they were dating... he wondered if people ever had training dates. But then he trained with Sakuraba all the time, it wouldn't be that special. Maybe they'd take in an amefuto game? Or maybe they could go hiking. That would be the perfect date... hiking, rock climbing, and maybe they could make potato guns like they did when they were little and shoot them at people.

Yes, Shin decided, dating Sakuraba would be... pleasant.

"I feel the same way," Shin whispered, and felt his insides warm as Sakuraba smiled at him.

Sakuraba smiled, happy for his friend though a little shocked that Shin actually had feelings for a girl. Some bit of annoyance tugged at his periphery, but he pushed it down. Through out the day, though, he grew more and more agitated without really knowing why, until he was practically slamming doors as he got home. So Shin liked a girl... so what... why was it bothering him? Then it dawned on Sakuraba... how he spent more time with Shin then with anyone else, how he valued Shin's advice the most, how much he respected the other boy... did he like Shin?

"Argh..." Sakuraba threw himself into his bed. This was such a mess.

He was still depressed about it when he went to sleep that night, and even more so when he woke up the next morning. So, when his doorbell rung, and Sakuraba opened the door to find Shin there, he wasn't sure to make of it. But when Shin held up a bag of potatoes and some pvc pipe, everything became a little bit clearer.


	12. Untitled BaHa

The Taiyou campus was quickly becoming as extravagant as any Ancient Egyptian palace, as the school committee all worked together to beautify the school. The hallways were newly gilded, the hieroglyphics upon them shining as brightly as the day they had been engraved, and all manner of flora and fabric found themselves draped over the gym. Even the school baths were purified, filled with fragrant goats milk and oils, new Persian rugs scattered around its periphery. This extra care was to be expected, as it was time for the Opet, and the traditional Taiyou festivities would last one week and culminate in the annual ball.

Of course, as things never did go smoothly, they had run into an unexpected problem.

"Please, Harao," and the school's president clamored to keep up with Harao's cushioned chariot, held aloft by four strapping boys and carrying not only Harao but a few of his concubines as well. "It's tradition!"

"Thou can not possibly expect one to make such a choice- tis impossible!" Harao near-shrieked, his arms and hands gesturing in histrionic motions. "T'would cause a riot among one's concubines!"

Harao looked affectionately at his cute collection of girls, who in returned sighed and smiled hopefully at him. Ah, but life was good.

"But, Harao," the principal continued, "it's tradition for the pharaoh to choose a queen for the ball... if they don't share the first dance, misfortune is sure to fall on our school!"

Harao rolled his eyes... really, some people were so superstitious. "Fine, fine, one will make a choice if one must."

He gestured for his henchmen to put him down, and then pointed at the door at the far end of the room. "The next person who crosseth through that threshold shall be one's queen."

There was a clamor as the girls near Harao got up and started running towards the door, and the principal could see girls who had no doubt overheard the conversation come running from the other side as well. He hoped there wouldn't be an accident... but then, in the next second, the light from the hallway was blocked off as an overly large body stepped into the doorframe, and several girls bounced off a strong, solid chest as Harao's favorite lackey stepped into the room.

"Harao. Football practice."

"There," Harao said decisively, a smile on his lips, "Banba shall be one's queen at the ball."

Then, turning to Banba, Harao lifted his arms into the air. "Carry me."

Inwardly Banba sighed, but he stepped forward to lift Harao into his arms... besides, there were worse things then having Harao clinging to him like this. He wasn't sure what was going on, but from the way Harao's concubines were glaring at him, he didn't have a good feeling about it.


	13. Untitled MusaHiru

It was a perfectly normal day, which Hiruma was currently spending running errands, when something in the window of a coffee shop caught his eye. The bubble he was blowing popped in his face, and his lips pulled into a frown as he realized that, yes, those two boys sitting at a table were exactly who he thought they were. He spit his gum onto the sidewalk and slammed the door open, making his way to the (too) small table.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, but Musashi only gave him a casual glance before shrugging.

"Getting a cup of coffee, what does it look like?"

Hiruma glared at Musashi's table companion, who had on an expression that was entirely too smug.

"With fucking sideburns? He's a freak."

"Look who's talking," Sasaki muttered, looking away as Hiruma turned to glare at him again.

"Look," Musashi said," we're just talking about football and stuff. We're both kickers, right? We've got a lot in common."

Hiruma didn't know who to attack first, Musashi or Sasaki. Fucking "talk"... what a bullshit excuse. That Sasaki asshole had been following Musashi around for God knows how long... this was obviously a date.

"Yes," Sasaki agreed, sliding forward on the table, "Gen and I have a lot to talk about. So if you don't mind?"

That did it. Hiruma pounced, claws and fangs out, and Sasaki only managed an undignified shriek as he was pushed to the floor. Musashi, in the meantime, was very much enjoying the site of two young, nubile boys tearing each other's clothes off, but as it was the other patrons were staring at the scene in barely concealed irritation. With a hesitant sigh he pulled Hiruma off the now unconscious Saski, and shuffled him out the door.

"Dumbass," he said, when Hiruma was still glaring at him, "you know I'd never be interested in a guy like him."

A guy other than you, Musashi wanted to say, but that would be too cheesy. Besides, it wouldn't help to tell Hiruma not to be jealous, because Hiruma would never admit that he was in the first place.


	14. Afterglow

He didn't know why he said it. Why this day, this night, was any different from any other night they had gotten together, and what possessed him to utter that one ridiculous word. But, ignorant as he may be on the subject, Musashi couldn't change the fact that it had slipped from his lips, one hand fumbling for a pack of cigarettes and the other fumbling for Hiruma's wrist.

"Stay."

And it made him feel like such a fucking girl, him naked on his stupid futon, Hiruma in boxer-briefs, and why the hell did he have to go and do that for. He laughed it off, jerked Hiruma back into bed, cause he had his pride to answer back to. It was just some eccentricity, it didn't mean anything.

"Why the hell do you want me to stay?" Hiruma asked, his voice only annoyance, and he was heavy and light all at the same time on Musashi's chest.

"Just stay, you know," and Hiruma smelled of sweat and sex and aftershave, "maybe we can go a second round."

He was almost embarrassed now, because they were practically cuddling or something stupid like that, but he liked the feel of Hiruma's slimmer muscles on his, and besides... Hiruma wasn't going anywhere. Hiruma was staying, and Musashi had enough sense not to question it.


	15. Stars and Such

The stars were white dots in the dark sky, holes cut out of construction paper, and Musashi gazed at them through outstretched fingers, cool grass itching on his skin. Small taps filled the air, in mismatched accompaniment to the chirping of crickets, and Musashi wondered what exactly Hiruma did on that laptop all the time. A train went by in the night, a soft hum in the distance, probably full of drunk salarimen and maybe a few gaijin tourists.

"Do you have to be on that thing all the time?"

There was no pause in the rapid taps, no hesitation, no answer, and Musashi turned his head from the stars to look at the glowing screen, almost green from the text on it, and it was a mish mash or words he didn't understand. Code, probably, and maybe Hiruma was hacking into something or getting into trouble. Musashi whistled.

"Impressive."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I'm just checking my email."

"Oh." Musashi scratched his head, went back to looking at the stars.

"Why don't you just learn how to use a computer?"

Musashi shrugged, an awkward motion from his position laying on the ground, muttered something that sounded like, "Too stupid. You're the smart one here."

And, in one smooth motion, he managed to pull Hiruma to a position next to it. The laptop fell to the floor, Hiruma muttered something about killing him if it broke, but it was only a few inches from Hiruma's lap to the grass.

"Hey, relax a little bit. Look at the stars with me."

Hiruma shifted, uncomfortable and most likely somewhat irritated, but he didn't protest either and then they were side by side. The hum of the train faded away, the crickets continued their song, and the stars shone with gentle light. Hiruma's skin was warm where they touched, and for a moment everything was perfect. Then he felt Hiruma move from next to him, getting up and pulling his laptop under his arm.

"Fuck this. I'll check my email inside."

Musashi watched as Hiruma disappeared into the house, waited a minute, and then followed him inside. The stars would always be there, and besides, there were more interesting things to look at.


	16. Introspective

The football felt small nestled into the lengths of his fingers, cradled in his outstretched palms like some kind of offering. It wasn't as though he didn't now the factual logistics of his more than average size... he was taller, wider, heavier than most people. Though, Harao noted, he was one of the slighter members of his football team. At any rate, the fact that a football was made with lesser beings in mind had never been lost on him, and the fact that it was smaller than it should be when he held it was something he had always known as fact. But this was the first time he had actually felt it. This was the first time that a football had ever been anything other than absolutely natural in his grip.

The thought of it left a vile taste in his mouth, and he acted before he thought, tossing the ball onto the ground to bounce a few times in several directions before rolling to a stop near the gallon water bottles some one had carried out for practice. His hands moved to cup his face, wipe off sweat and push his hair back, as he leaned forward and focused on the grass that was growing up through patches of dry dirt. The sounds of his team practicing drifted to his ears as though from far away, though the distance that separated them was mere yards.

Did they think him petulant, he thought, did they think him histrionic… it had been a good fifteen minutes since he had left the field and sat down on this match, fifteen minutes while every one else had practiced. He looked up for a moment, taking in the heavily regimented routine that Banba had devised, scanning the horrific scars on Banba's face, long tracks of hard flesh that seemed to grow more numerous every day as a result of their practices. He watched as Banba glanced back at him, at the mixture of scorn and disappointment written in Banba's expression before the other boy turned away. Harao felt it flare something in him, felt a sudden anger propel him off the bench and back onto the field, without thinking to wonder if the emotions he had read were real or imagined. After all, when had Banba treated him with anything other than objectivity, outside of when he was outright indulgent?

Harao's reappearance on the field made every one stop for the moment, and they only stared at him as he started barking out orders to some of the members on his team.

"Harao," Banba started, his voice only calm, only unperturbed, "I was leading practice."

"It's not your practice to lead," Harao bit out, realizing how harsh his tone was, how angry he sounded, and he wondered why he had such a difficult time keeping his cool.

The air on the field was suddenly tense, the other members on the team either frozen or shifting awkwardly as they took in the strange power struggle. Because, yes, Harao was the captain, the one they deferred to, but really, hadn't Banba always been the one who was really in charge?

"You can work on defense," Harao continued, trying to make it sound like a most magnanimous offer, "but I'm in charge of offense and special teams."

The tense moment only grew tenser, until after what seemed like an eternity Banba finally said something that sounded like "if that's what you want", and the team separated to their respective areas to finish practice.

Harao lost himself in the physical exercise, took out his anger in the drills and routines they performed, and when they were done and Banba approached him, all he said was "leave me alone", because he knew Banba would listen. The rest of the team retired to the showers, but he grabbed his bag and walked off the school property, tying his hair back in a ponytail as he left. He was sweaty, he was tired, but he still wasn't done, so he headed to a portion of the beach that he knew would be empty.

Of course, it was fall, and the balmy, grey weather of late pretty much ensured that no one would be at the beach even if he had gone to a more popular area. The water was the type of cold that seeped into your bones, but as he stepped into it all he felt was relief. The current was strong, much stronger than usual, perhaps because there was a storm off the coast somewhere. Harao didn't know, didn't care enough to listen to weather reports. But he did know that the waves would be stronger, more violent, though not necessarily bigger or more fun to ride. As he padded out on his surfboard he forgot all about football and Banba, and then he was only focused on the waves and the pounding they gave him.

When he stopped the sun was already sinking into the horizon, and he crawled out of the water and sunk down into the sand. He was that content kind of tired, after you worked off all your energy and couldn't think about anything other than the endorphins running through your system. Almost like that brief period after orgasm, when nothing else seemed to matter very much.

The grey of the sky was colored purple in spots now, the clouds almost silver, and he wondered if it was going to rain. But he was tired, and when he felt his eyes closing, he didn't have the strength to fight it.

When Harao woke up again it was to the feel of silken cushions underneath his skin and the sound of a humidifier running in the background. He opened his eyes, shifted, and realized that his hair was shampooed and brushed, that his skin was swathed in sheer linen robes that smelled like jasmine. He was home.

There was a knock on the door before it opened, and Banba walked in carrying a silver tray topped with various foods. The larger boy carefully sat down on the bed beside Harao, and placed the tray next to him.

"Are you hungry?"

Harao shrugged, ignoring, for the moment, the meal. He wondered if Banba had followed him to the beach, had waited there until Harao had needed him, or if he had just known where to find him.

"Are you angry with me?" Banba asked, his tone of voice clearly indicating that he found it quite inconsequential if Harao was angry or not. At least, Harao thought, he was trying.

"You're not the captain of this team."

And Banba just looked at him, said nothing, like he knew that wasn't the reason why Harao was upset. Harao's eyes traced over the scars on Banba's face, wanting almost to lift his fingers and touch them, but he didn't.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" Again in that completely indifferent voice.

"No." And this time Harao did reach out, fingers ghosting over cold, hard skin. Banba's scars were a mark of his devotion, of his commitment to the sport. Really, Banba was so much better than him, so much better than any one on the team. "You think I'm a bad quarterback."

"No," Banba replied, but he turned away, Harao's fingers dropping from his skin as he turned to face the wall. Harao stared at his back, at his broad shoulders and wide girth, and he thought that there wasn't any other way for Banba to feel about him.

"I'm sorry," Harao said, the words foreign on his lips, and he wondered if he had ever apologized for anything in his life.

Banba turned to give him an almost quizzical glance, but it was hard to read Banba's expressions, so Harao didn't know for sure. "We lost as a team."

"You lost because of us." Harao could feel everything inside of him well up with the admittance, all the insecurities he had been suppressing. If Banba had been on a better team… if he had better teammates… as a quarterback, Harao had realized in the last season, he was nothing special.

"You're not a bad quarterback," Banba said, and something in his voice made Harao almost believe him. Then, after a moment, "This isn't like you, Harao."

Banba's hand reached out to push the hair from his face, and it felt large and awkward against his skin. It had always been that way, Harao thought, ever since they were children together. Banba leaned down towards him, closer, and Harao rested an arm around his shoulder. It was like the moment before a kiss, and Harao wondered why he bothered with all those girls, but then the moment grew too long and he started to feel awkward.

"I don't want to eat this," he said, moving back to lounge on his pillows and pushing the tray of food away with one delicate finger. "Go get me something else."

Banba hesitated for half a moment before picking up the tray and standing up. "Yes, Harao."

Harao watched Banba leave, content in the knowledge that he would be back in a few minutes. For the moment, he was feeling more like himself. And, perhaps, if he felt like it later on, he might give Banba the opportunity to kiss him again.


	17. Christmas Party

Sena, as naïve and innocent as he seemed, had nonetheless developed quite the habit of drinking himself into a frenzy (and subsequent stupor) whenever there was alcohol present at a gathering. Though, Hiruma pondered, with his slight body weight, perhaps it was inevitable. One glass of sake was probably enough to send the boy into the open arms of the good lady inebriation. Still, the fact that he had just run past Hiruma stark naked had left the quarterback slightly puzzled.

Ah, well, nothing for it, and where the hell was Rui with that bag of ice Hiruma had sent him out for? Good slaves were so hard to find these days. And now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen that fucker Musashi. Maybe he wasn't here yet... probably passed out on his couch after a jerk off session, Hiruma figured, drooling with his pants halfway down and the television blaring Simpsons in the foreground. Stupid fucker. Last time Hiruma would invite him to a Christmas party.

Hearing a strange noise, Hiruma opened the door to his parents bedroom, not too happy to find Sakuraba and Shin there, swapping all kinds of bodily fluid.

"Oh, I don't know, Shin..."

"It's okay, Sakuraba. After all, physical release is vital to staying healthy, so we're just helping each other out."

"Well, when you put it that way..."

Hiruma frowned and slammed the door closed. He walked down the hallway, where Harao seemed to be speaking with a slightly irritated, slightly uncomfortable Akaba, apparently about how he had first gotten together with Banba after a childhood of friendship.

"... and then one happened to look down in the locker room showers, and one realized, twas a magnificent man that Banba had become..."

Maybe Musashi was waiting for him in his bedroom. With no clothes on. Except maybe a bow. Hiruma smirked and went to open the door... only to see Sena in a naked shota puddle with Riku. So that's where he had been running off to. Well, he'd let Sena have his fun, Hiruma decided in a rare moment of affection. Shrimp deserved it.

He shut the door and turned, only to find Kid had crept up behind him, and was now blocking his way out.

"Hey."

Hiruma raised an eyebrow. He hadn't really been in the mood for Kid, but the guy was packing double pistols today, and firearms always got Hiruma really stiff. "Hey. Nice guns."

"Yeah. You know which one's really itching for some action? The one in the holster in the middle."

"Mmm. I can tell," Hiruma replied, smiling, his hand already reached out and cupping denim covered hardness. "Looks like it's about ready to shoot, huh?"

That's when he felt some one grab him and jerk him away.

"Sorry," came Musashi's voice said from behind him, "Hiruma's with me tonight."

Kid smiled and tipped his hat in capitulation. "That's the way it goes. I wonder how good Tetsuma is at giving hand jobs..."

As Kid walked away Hiruma found himself turned around and his lips and teeth pressed harshly against Musashi's. Visions of Christmas sex swimming in his head, he pulled away enough to growl out "guest bedroom", before he became aware of a strange, irregular knock on the door.

"Fuck. Wait here."

He made his way to the front door, opening it to find... no one.

"... ran into.... Agon... need... doctor..." came a rather bedraggled voice, and Hiruma looked down to see Rui in an odd-shaped lump on the ground, a bag of ice in his arm and getting blood on the welcome mat.

"It's about fucking time," Hiruma muttered, plucking the bag of ice from Rui's hold and heading back inside.

Hiruma made his way to the living room, emptying the ice into a bowl next to the egg nog. Some of Banba's teammates were bonding there, mostly by talking about what a bitch Harao was most of the time. Banba was sitting in manly silence on the couch until one of them asked him something outright.

"Why are you always doing everything he says, anyway?"

Banba shrugged. "He gives good head."

Obvious Banba-speak for 'I love him'. Harao showed up then, coat on and ready to go.

"Banba, thou art going home. Hurry up and get ready."

Banba grunted and stood up, but it was at the moment a very drunk Monta stumbled into the room, flailing about before tripping and falling down. He grabbed onto Banba's pants as he fell, showing every one in the room exactly how much of a "magnificent man" Banba was. (He was apparently twelve inches of thick, juicy, magnificent man.)

Hiruma felt his mouth drop a little bit in awe. Harao smiled with possessive pride.

"Hey, hey," came Musashi's voice, as he dragged Hiruma back into the hallway, "don't look at that. It's going to give you unrealistic expectations."

Hiruma surreptitiously shot a disappointed glance down at Musashi's crotch. But then he was being pushed towards the guest bedroom, and they were opening the door. Apparently, Sakuraba had finished with Shin, because he was now in here with Takami.

"Oh, I don't know, Takami..."

"Sakuraba.... have I ever told you that I've always believed in you?"

"Do you really?"

"Yes, totally. Now will you let me put my dick in your mouth?"

"Well, when you put it that way..."

Hiruma slammed the door shut and turned around to face Musashi again. "Bathroom?"

"Kinky. I like it."

And if there were any fuckers unlucky enough to be in there when Hiruma opened the door... well, they'd best be adept at dodging bullets.


End file.
